


Stay

by PyroQuill



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: 1917, Fluff, Healing, Kilgour is baby, M/M, Small, first time writing for this fandom and I lo v e it, just a little thing I wrote in a frenzy last night, like if you blink you'll miss it - Freeform, somewhat proof read we die like men, these are some soft bois, v e r y small mention of Scho and Blake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:26:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PyroQuill/pseuds/PyroQuill
Summary: German soldier Baumer survives the attack by Schofield. Now sporting a broken wrist, he wanders about no man's land until he cant go any further. Kilgour, a soldier on the British side, stumbles across the wounded German on a water run and takes pity.OrThe Kilgour/Baumer fic literally NO ONE asked for.
Relationships: Soldat Baumer/Private Kilgour (1917)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be a joke. Recently I've fallen in love with the movie 1917, and latched onto the characters, especially Kilgour. My brain just popped in the idea hEY what If you stuck Baumer (the German soldier Schofield strangled) and Kilgour that would be hilarious. And. Now that I've written this chaotic mess I've kinda fallen for the two being together. This was written completely just for me, but hey if you enjoy it, welcome to the very small Baumer/Kilgour club.

Kilgour slowly picked his way through the trenches many roads, mumbling apologies if he accidentally bumped into another soldier. Lieutenant Leslie had sent him out on a water run, of all things. But he wasn't about to complain, it would be a nice change to get out of the trenches, even if it would only be for an hour tops. Shifting his grip on the tins he had clutched against his chest, he looked up to see the trench sloping steadily upward. Finally.

Stumbling onto the grassy clearing at the entrance to the trench, he made his way in the direction of the brook. The only clean one they had left, the other ones had been infected by rotting corpses. It was a good 10 minute walk to the stream, so the Private let his mind wander. His thoughts drifted to the two boys who had crossed over no-man's land days before. He remembers only one returning... 

Arriving at the river, he unceremoniously drops the tins to the ground, leaving one still in his hand. Sweeping his cloak to the side, he kneels down, unscrews the cap and dips the tin into the bubbling stream. 

As he is twisting on the cap of the last tin, he jerks his head up. To the left, a few yards down the stream he could hear the faint tell tale sounds of coughing. Dropping the tin, he reached for his gun. Slowly rising to his feet, he begins creeping towards the coughing. It's coming from a patch of trees, long grass growing among them. Kilgour tenses as another bought of harsh coughing wafts towards him. Raising his gun, he enters the cluster of trees. And immediately he spots the other soldier. He's leaning against a tree opposite of him, eyes screwed shut. He was clearly in pain, and was gripping his arm as if he couldn't hold it up on its own.

He definitely wasn't one of them, and on closer inspection of his clothes, Kilgor sucked in a breath. It was a Hun. Raising his gun up a bit, he took a deep breath. 

"Who are you!?"

The other soldier's eyes fly open, and the first thing he notices about them is _how brown they are_. Like deep pools of chocolate. The soldier gives Kilgour a look of fear, and panic. 

"nicht schießen! Bitte erschieß mich nicht!" Don't shoot! Please don't shoot me!

Kilgour stops at the outburst. He doesn't know any words in German, but the intent was clear. Don't hurt me. Slowly, he lowers the gun, eyeing the other warily. He looked about his age, couldn't of been any older than 20. The other slowly raises the hand that was clutching the other arm, wincing as it fell limply to his side. He held the hand up in surrender, but he was still clearly terrified. 

"...desert.." he whispers.

"Huh..?" Kilgour blinks, taking a small step closer to the other. 

The German points to his chest with a crooked finger, smiling weakly. "... desert... mean n-no harm.."

Kilgour let's out a gasp of realization. He deserted, no wonder he was out here all alone. He took another step, the other didn't move. He slowly lowered himself down to sit in front of the other, gaze flicking to his arm. "Your arm? Does it hurt?" He asks, touching his own arm for visual. The other nods, his face scrunching up as he lets out another bout of coughs. Kilgour shuffles closer, hand outstretched. "May I...?" 

The other leans towards him, wincing at the sudden movement. Kilgour gently takes the German soldiers arm, feeling around for broken bones. Before he left for the war, he had been reading books and studying medicine. When his hand moved lower, towards the others wrist, the German let out a cry of pain. Broken wrist, some internal bruising. "You need medical attention." He starts, and makes to stand up. The other soldier shakes his head quickly, that panicked look coming back. 

"Nein, bitte nicht. Sie werden mich töten. No, please. They, kill me." He gasps, and throws himself back against the tree, gripping at his wrist. Kilgour watched helplessly. He was right. He couldn't just waltz back to the trenches with a Hun in tow, they would shoot him on the spot. No questions asked. Biting his lip, he looks back to where he abandoned the tins. If he ran them back... and borrowed some supplies, just enough so he could help the other.. he turns to the soldier, who despite the pain, had been watching him think with curiosity. 

"You. Stay here. I will come back with, medicine to help." He says. The other regards him, then slowly nods. Scrambling to his feet, he snatches up his gun and races back to the tins. Gathering them all he hurries back towards the British trenches, heart and mind racing. What in the bloody hell was he _doing?_ That was the enemy, he shouldn't be helping him. The Hun was the ENEMY, something they needed to defeat. And yet... in reality, he was just a boy, same as he. Forced into this war like so many others, when they could of been living their life free from the stinking trenches, measly food scraps and the nagging worry that at anytime they could die.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kilgour blinks open his eyes. Everything was dark. Time to set his plan in motion. He slowly rose to his feet, making sure not to disturb the men sleeping around him.Somehow, he miraculously managed to sneak away without the lieutenant noticing. And to be rightly honest, Leslie wouldn't of even cared, it was dark, the Hun had abandoned the trench nearest to them. There was nothing to do. It was agonizingly slow, but he managed to make his way out of the trenches. Glancing towards the medic tents, he quickly strolled in that direction. They would have what he needed.

Making sure no medics were around, he side stepped behind some stacked crates. Peering at the labels, he found one marked with what he was looking for. Pulling out the knife that he had on him, he wedged the blade between the seams. Gritting his teeth, he began working on opening the crate. God, why was it so _loud_? After half an hour of successfully opening the crate without gaining any attention, double and triple checking that he had everything he needed he was on his way back to the wounded soldier. 

When he arrived at the copse of trees, everything was quiet. "Hello..?" He hissed, eyes squinting to try and see in the faint light the moon was giving off. A weak "here..." answered him. Kilgour let out a breath of air he didn't know he was holding. He walked over to the other soldier and sat down. Their knees brushed, and he peered at the others face. The soldiers eyes were wide and bright, and there was a soft smile on his lips. Kilgour pried his gaze from the other males lips and slid off his pack, opening one of the pockets to pull out a chunk of bread. The other eyed it hungrily. 

"Here, eat while I work on your arm." He says, handing him the chunk. The soldier looks at him as if he just handed him a block of gold. As Kilgour began working on the others arm, the soldier shifted, turning to watch his work as he ate. 

"Name? Your name?" He asks around a mouthful of bread. 

Glancing up, he flashes the other a quick smile, "Kilgour." He whispers.

The other smiles. "Kilgour.." hearing his name said oh so softly sent a shiver run down Kilgour's spine, and he tilts his head down to hide his face. This wasn't the time to let that part of him show.. he didn't want to scare him away.

"What is yours?" He mumbles, pulling out the cloth that would be used as a makeshift arm sling.

"Baumer." He replies.

Finishing up the arm sling, Kilgour sits back on his heels to inspect his work. Satisfied, he tosses the remaining supplies into his pack and shoves it to the side, and leans back against the same tree Baumer is leaning on.

"Danke." Baumer whispers, and Kilgour nods. He turns his head to come face to face with the other boy. He sucks in a breath sharply. The moonlight filtered in through the leaves in the canopy above them, shining Baumer's face in a pale, beautiful light. The others eyes were as wide as ever, they seemed to be like that naturally, taking in the world, like there was too much to see in too little time. His mouth opens and closes for a moment, gaze flicking to the others lips and back to those bright crystal blue eyes.

"...your welcome." He mumbles.

The two boys gaze at one another a moment longer, both wanting to say what they felt, yet not having the courage. Fear, fear that they would scare the other off. 

Baumer has had enough though. Setting his jaw he leans forward, pressing his lips gently to Kilgour's. Kilgour let's out a gasp of surprise, body going rigid. Baumer immediately pulls back, his eyes flashing with worry. He opens his mouth, about to apologize when Kilgour snaps out of his shock and grabs Baumer by the front of his uniform, pulling him back in for another kiss. Though, the kiss doesn't last long when Kilgour realizes that he needs to return back to the trench. They would surely notice his disappearance by morning if he wasn't careful. As he stands up, Baumer reaches up with his good hand and grabs Kilgour's wrist.

"Please, don't. Stay. _Bitte_."

Kilgour hesitates, glancing towards the hill where the trench laid behind. Baumer let's his fingers slide down Kilgour's wrist, letting them lace with the others. Kilgour feels a smile tug at the end of his lips. They wouldn't miss him for another few hours he supposed. Sitting back down next to Baumer, he let's out a sigh. Feeling the weight of Baumer's head on his shoulder, he peers down at the other and presses a kiss to his head before leaning against the tree, letting his eyes drift shut.


End file.
